I have a story to tell. It’s not a story with a beginning, a middle, and an end. It’s a story told in pictures. Pictures that point to the Mysteries that caper and dance in the corner of your vision. Mysteries that disappear when you look at them straight on. Mysteries with a capital M. I don’t explain the Mysteries. I don’t even show you the Mysteries. I just point in the direction where they dwell and suggest you go looking for them. They are the other. The inhuman other. The other not only beyond ourselves but beyond human experience. My drawings are not the Mysteries but they do have a life of their own. They like to live on people’s clothes so they can dance. They don’t want to be trapped inside people’s houses, tacked to a wall or trapped in a book. They want to see the world and go dancing.
